


Papercut

by Mishafer



Series: Saturating the Reibert tag with Actual Reibert Fics [5]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Escapism, Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 14:03:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11738574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mishafer/pseuds/Mishafer
Summary: While Reiner dissociates from himself to bear his burden, Bertholdt finds his own escape in books. And he wishes more than anything the stories were a reality.





	Papercut

**Author's Note:**

> I kept seeing various fan art of Bertholdt with books and it sparked an idea. In the times when he was alone and Reiner in his other persona, I can see him turning to something like reading to pass the time and get out of his own misery. Knowing Bertholdt, there's no way he wouldn't be greatly effected by the stories he reads. And thus this was born.
> 
> This is more Bertholdt-centric than Reibert, but they're still ~involved here.

_"We lose ourselves in books, we find ourselves there too."_

* * *

Reading material was heavily censored and regulated in Marley. Disallowing any depiction of something that might stir up the idea of an Eldian uprising or portray a different type of government. So when Bertholdt lay his eyes on the cadets’ rich library, he was mesmerized. Sure, their literature lacked accurate depictions of the outside world, and anything overtly portraying a rebellion was suspiciously missing. But the richness and diversity of the stories was like nothing he had ever seen.

He hadn’t read much in their first year, but did consume a young adult novel about an adventurer in a stone age who fought dragons and serpents. A metaphor for titans, he assumed. The main character, Daniel, succeeded in the end and vanquished every last dragon and serpent on earth. Daniel’s drive and passion reminded him of Eren.

The second year was when Reiner started drifting out of Bertholdt’s reach, and he found himself reaching for reading material more often.

“Hey, whatcha reading now?” Reiner asked him, finding him alone on a bench one afternoon.

This book was a romance. Racy enough at times that it had him blushing and looking over his shoulder. “It’s called ‘Enticing,’” Bertholdt answered and shrunk back.

He waggled his eyebrows. “Sounds dirty.”

He half-smiled. “Yeah, well, I don’t like to exclude any genres, so…” He shrugged. “Hey, um, you and I ought to get together with that sparring bar later.” Sparring bar was code for Annie. “Have some things to go over.”

“What sparring bar?”

“The one we always use.”

“For what?”

He bit his cheek. “You know.”

“No, I don’t.” He squinted. “I don’t think we’ve used a specific one at all before. Maybe you dreamed it.”

His fingers slipped beneath the book, digging in with his nails and leaving indents. “Yeah. Yeah, guess I dreamed it.”

He slapped his hands together. “Well, anyway, I’ll see you later?”

He nodded and pursed his lips. “Mhm.”

After Reiner left, he picked up where he left off. His attention had been waning before Reiner appeared, but he knocked out thirty pages after that. The main character, Rosa, reminded him of Christa. Sweet, courteous, and the apple of many a man's eye. Her love interest, Mack, was somewhat like Jean. Cocky, confident, and outspoken. The two ended up married at the end and welcomed a baby boy.

Bertholdt was a little embarrassed at how his heart warmed at such a cliche and sappy tale. But the lovestruck couple starting a family and spending their long lives together ignited desires he was unaware he had.

Ones he had to ignore.

Reiner didn’t ask about the next book Bertholdt read. Which was odd since Reiner was always curious about whatever was catching his friend’s interest. It was one of the things he loved most about him. If he for some reason was dead set on watching paint dry, Reiner was sure as hell going to ask him all about it.

But Reiner at no point asked about it. Even when he was reading right next to him in their quarters one late night. Instead, Reiner entertained Eren, Armin, Connie, and Marco on the next bunk.

The book in question was a far cry from the last. The main character, Florence, was a victim of bullying in school and had sunk into a deep depression. Despite her state, she retained a wry sense of humor much like Ymir. Bertholdt admired Florence’s resilience. Her strength and courage in fighting against her tormentors and retaking her life for herself. He buried his envy at the fact she had a life of her own to reclaim.

Through his concentration, a few notes in Reiner’s voice found his ears, “...you like? Anyone?”

“Uh, no not really,” Armin answered.

“Come on,” he continued. “Gotta be someone. Just don’t tell me you’re on the Christa train too.”

Bertholdt tried refocusing on the print.

“She’s nice, but not my type.”

“What’s 'not your type' about her? She’s so cute and tiny, long blonde hair, big, big… blue eyes.” He chuckled at his joke.

Bertholdt shifted, trying harder to refocus his attention.

“She certainly is beautiful,” Marco remarked. “Anyone can see that.”

“If only it weren’t for Ymir always hanging around her, I’d—”

Bertholdt’s blood ran cold. What was this? Why had he fabricated a crush on Christa? A girl? And why would he talk about it right in front of him?

The other four no doubt noticed the inappropriateness of his words as their voices and replies grew uneasy.

_Just read, just read, just read…_

Again he tried to tune it out and focus on the story. Florence had just smashed the mirror she used to ridicule her appearance in. But he couldn’t deny the hurt splintering across his heart. He wanted to run out of the room, find a closet to hide in, and cry.

But more than that, he wished he could be like Florence and grow strong enough to say something instead of cower.

Bertholdt wanted to read something happier after that. He picked up a contemporary book of short stories centered around a group of pub owners. Their shared wit was infectious. Two of the characters, Hal and Elsa, were much like Sasha and Connie. Although it was Hal who had the voracious appetite. The cast’s warmth and mutual support engulfed Bertholdt as he read, wishing he could be there with them. Safe and honest with people whom he had no ulterior motives toward. Who he never had to lie to. Who he never had to worry about leaving him for a fabrication.

He even had the book with him one evening at supper, laid out beside his bowl of stew.

“Which one is that? Reiner asked, sitting down beside him with his own meal.

Bertholdt blinked, trickles of hope rising in his chest. “It’s called ‘Growing Pains.’ It’s a comedy piece mostly.”

“You make me feel so low-brow and basic with all your intellectual reading.”

“That’s the point.”

He laughed and slapped him on the back. For the rest of the meal, he paid attention only to Bertholdt. Asking him about his reading and jokingly asking if he would read to him, teasing, ‘but your voice is so smooth like velvet.’ An unshakable happiness rocked through him. The first time in so long that Reiner had been well, his. He didn’t touch the book the rest of the night, more intent on touching Reiner.

Feeling up to an angister tale, Bertholdt next chose a book that by the summary alone he knew would never have been allowed in Marley. It featured an everyman in a futuristic society—by Paradis standards—that had eliminated the perceived source of all problems: anger. The main character, Chance, was gifted in that he felt the banned emotion, but debated with himself whether or not to fight for its restoration.

Bertholdt could not stop thinking about it. During training he forgot to properly fasten the last strap of his 3DM gear because he was mulling over if he felt Chance should fight. At last, Bertholdt, as well as Chance, decided while their society’s problems with violence and animosity had become almost nonexistent, people had a right to feel every one of their emotions.

Chance also reminded him of Reiner. Once a frail child, grown up to be one of the strongest of his troop. Bertholdt found himself wishing he and Reiner could slip inside the pages and fight for a world they knew would be better.

When he found Reiner later that night, he had to tell him everything he was thinking. His thoughts were wrong, treasonous even, against the core of their mission but he needed to get his head out of the clouds. Reiner had been more himself lately and would reassure him of who they really were.

Reiner smiled and nodded along as Bertholdt spilled the details of the story, seeming to be captivated by the tale.

“I think that would be amazing,” Reiner said, and Bertholdt stilled. “Though I think killing titans is making ‘a better world.’”

Bertholdt went white and excused himself shortly after. Rushing to the dark, empty library in need of something to read. He sat down on the worn carpet before a bookcase and pulled out Growing Pains. Rereading the first twenty-three pages before he got to an exceptionally funny part about who started a grease fire. His silent chuckles turned to sobs, hands caressing its pages, wishing the book would open up and he could leap inside. That he could join their world.

“Bertholdt?” Reiner’s voice. The last one he wanted to hear. Bertholdt said nothing, hoping he would hear no reply and give up. Reiner turned the corner and tiptoed over as if not to startle him. “Did I do something?”

Bertholdt’s despair boiled over into red hot rage. He was _confused_? He didn’t know _why_ he was upset?

“Don’t…” Bertholdt said through gritted teeth, clenching his quivering fists.

“Don’t what? Hey, if did something wrong, I want to know.” He stepped over.

Bertholdt hurled the book across the room. Fake dribble.

“Bert—”

“You know what you did, Reiner? You want to know?” Reiner gave an affirming raise of his brow. “You… abandoned me. You don’t even remember half the time what—” He realized while the library was deserted, voices carried. “—who we are.”

“I know who we are. Bertl, you’re not making sense.”

“Don’t ‘Bertl’ me when you’re not even Reiner. Just… just….”

_I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you…_

_I love you…_

He stood up and continued, “How could you do that to me? Talking about Christa while I was right there. Even the guys knew how messed up that was.”

“ _That’s_ what you’re upset about? I won’t go after her if it upsets you—”

“No, no you know what, go fuck Christa!” He winced at his pitch and vulgarity. “Do it. Since you’re so much happier in your fantasies. But guess what, Reiner? When things get too hard you can’t just check out. The world doesn’t revolve around you and your problems. If you knew that you might notice my suffering too if you weren’t so fixated on your own.”

He recoiled at his own words again. Their venom making him place his hands over his mouth. Reiner stared with such severity that Bertholdt knew he had come back.

_Oh god, oh god, what have I done?_

“Really?” Reiner questioned. “Maybe you should try getting some agency of your own and not wait on me to kiss your scraped knee. You’re the one in love with feeling sorry for himself. Woe is me. Maybe if you’d spoken up and been there for me when—”

“I have!”

“No, you haven’t been, you just go off by yourself and wish everything would be different without actually trying to change it.”

His shoulders fell. “I love you. Why isn’t that enough to make you happy? Why do you have to become a fictional character to feel complete?”

_Why do I wish I could do the same?_

Tears welled in Bertholdt's eyes and he brought his hands to cover his face. He heard Reiner stalk off. Bertholdt then scrambled for the book he threw, washing with guilt when he saw its dented pages.

_No, no, no, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never meant to..._

When characters fought, how did they make up? What did Rosa and Mack do after they quarreled? What resolution was there for him and Reiner? Those characters’ problems were so trivial to compared to his. Even Chance’s. He was a man whose beliefs were aligned with his goals.

His fingers touched the pages again, thinking of when he would have to say goodbye to the book. Though perhaps this particular one would be allowed back home as it was harmless, but how would he swing that? Shove it in his backpack and hope he didn't lose it while wiping out humanity? What kind of warrior held onto a silly book anyway?

It shouldn't matter if he were allowed it. He wanted to be home regardless how imperfect that home may be.

Bertholdt wondered if any books would be written based the warriors’ attack on Paradis. Detailing their heroism and victory. At last he might land a starring role. None of the protagonists of his favorite tales reminded him of himself, which was understandable as he was too meek to fit the role. Whatever might be written of him by Marley would be nothing close to reality. It would be all glory and bluster. No mention of the god of destruction finding solace in the breathtaking literature written by the so-called devils he had exterminated.


End file.
